The Accidental Apprentice by Vikas Swarup Read Free Book Online Page A

one lakh rupees to participate in the tests. I am asking for two lakhs.’
    â€˜And what makes you think I will agree to your demand?’
    â€˜In life you don’t get what you deserve: you only get what you negotiate. Isn’t this what you told me in the Coffee House? Well, I’m only following your advice. I’m negotiating with you.’
    â€˜Touché!’ Acharya claps grudgingly. ‘You are a fast learner. But in order to negotiate you need to have leverage of some kind. Do you have a choice in this case?’
    â€˜I could ask you the same question. Do you have a choice? A better candidate?’
    â€˜I like your spunk.’ Acharya nods. ‘But why do you need so much money?’
    â€˜I have some urgent family commitments.’
    Acharya gazes out of the bay window, brooding over my demand. From his vantage point, like an eagle on his perch, he can see Lutyens’s Delhi spread out below him. There is something magical and mystical about seeing a city from a high-rise, far from the soot and dust of the concrete jungle, the heat and noise of the road. I crane my neck to catch a view of the capital. All I can see is a shimmering ribbon of glitter draped across the horizon, blurring the boundary between earth and sky.
    After a few tension-filled minutes, Acharya finally looks up and nods as if arriving at a decision. ‘Rana, give her two lakhs.’
    Rana gives me a dirty look and exits the room.
    I turn to Acharya. ‘Can I ask you a question?’
    â€˜By all means.’
    â€˜Why didn’t you consider Rana for the job you are offering me? After all, he is your trusted confidant.’
    â€˜For the same reason that I don’t take investment tips from my barber,’ he says, leaning back in his chair and fiddling with a crystal Ganesha paperweight. ‘To use a cricketing analogy, Rana is a good all-rounder, but would make a poor captain. He doesn’t have the mindset of a leader. He can never sit here.’ He taps his chair. ‘But you can, provided you succeed in my seven tests.’
    â€˜Your tests are making me apprehensive.’
    â€˜Don’t be. My tests are not so much about passing or failing, as about discovering yourself. Through each of the seven tests you will gain practical wisdom of running a business in the real world.’
    â€˜It reminds me of those ancient tales of kings who set tests for their children to decide who amongst them should inherit the crown.’
    â€˜My inspiration is more modern. I despise the feudal culture of inheritance. Of spoilt rich kids getting everything handed to them through hereditary succession. I am a self-made man and I have created a culture of achievement in the ABC Group. You have to fight for your dreams, earn your place in the company.’
    Running a company was never my dream, I feel like telling him, when Rana returns. He plunks down a manila envelope in front of me. ‘There is two lakhs inside. Check the cash.’
    I open the envelope to discover it bulging with thousand-rupee notes. Counting the lot seems like a rude thing to do. ‘I trust Mr Acharya,’ I declare, and sign the form with a flourish.
    Rana picks up the document and puts it back in the leather folder.
    â€˜When will the tests begin?’ I enquire, stuffing the envelope inside my purse.
    â€˜They have already begun,’ Acharya says cryptically.
    Before I can probe any further, the intercom on his desk buzzes. He stares at it for a moment, before depressing a red button. ‘Sir, the party from Hong Kong is on its way up,’ Jennifer’s perky voice comes through the speakerphone.
    Acharya nods and then looks up at me. ‘Good luck,’ he says, signalling that the meeting is over.
    Five minutes later I am back on the street, pondering over the strangeness of all that has just happened. There is more money in my purse than I have ever possessed in my life and it fills me with a